


Not You Again

by Fuchsgeist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Thor: Tales of Asgard
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuchsgeist/pseuds/Fuchsgeist
Summary: Loki and Severus Snape want the same thing.Well, no, that is a misleading statement: they want the same artifact. Now the two raven-haired drama queers with daddy-issues have to either work together or trick each other into giving up.But Severus has dealt with mischievous deviants all his life. What's the worst that could happen?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Severus Snape
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Not You Again

Severus Snape wasn't  _ really  _ the adventurous type. He just couldn't help being sucked into stressful situations. At least that was what he told himself. The person keeping his pulse up after the war couldn't possibly be himself, could it? Nearly dying should have brought things into perspective. Molly had said so: a second chance at life, something you should make the most of. So what if making the most of life included taking risks. (Some might even say  _ unnecessary  _ risks. And what about it?) 

Did Severus  _ need  _ a legendary artifact that could melt any substances together into a new one? Strictly speaking: no. But would his pride survive it if any other potioneer found and used it before him? Also no. 

The possibilities for experimental potions were endless. If he had figured it out correctly, he might even achieve what Voldemort didn't, live forever (or until he grew tired of it) with his soul intact. 

Severus imagined the object to be a cauldron, though non of the scriptures specifically mentioned its form. 

Magic was a beautiful and dangerous thing. Some had it, some didn't. Some were more powerful than others. Researching the early history of magic was finicky. Wizard-kind wasn't exactly prone to be accurate about documenting it. Where magic came from and how it behaved was highly dependent on if a poet or a healer told the story, the political climate, language - it was downright impossible to distinguish between real and fake. Where muggles had used their imagination to explain magical things happening to them and turned them into legend and fairy tales, wizards had just made up things that were  _ completely bonkers. _

And now, Severus planned to travel to a parallel universe, a so-called "realm", that was referenced in some druidic texts. 

He felt a bit silly, to be honest, standing in a stone circle in Scotland, barefoot, without any warning charms, breathing in the wild magic of the winter solstice. 

He felt his hair curl in the damp cold. One could think that it would just give up some day. After so many  _ litres  _ of straightening potion, after years of having people whisper about his greasy hair, he would've thought he had tamed his hair into submission. But no. His hair refused to obey. Snape didn't  _ like _ curls. He disliked them so much, he used to get irrationally angry at curly students, back when he was still doomed by Dumbledore to be a teacher. There was something so undignified about hair that just wouldn't hold still, that defied gravity. Even his muggle family had thought so, burning his hair straight with a hot comb. 

Severus felt a rumbling sensation under his soles. Then, there was a tucking sensation, not unlike portkey travel. And suddenly, the air smelt differently. He had closed his eyes involuntarily.

When he opened them again, he was surrounded by untamed beauty. The hill he stood on was surrounded by forests that just reeked of unknown magic. Snape felt excitement bubble in his stomach, a thrill so rare that he giggled foolishly in unadulterated delight. He took out his wand and cast a warming charm on his feet. A mistake, apparently. It was so completely overpowered by environmental magic that he accidentally boiled his feet a bit. Slightly limping, Severus followed the earth lines to the place where the artifact was supposed to be.

  
  
  


Loki wanted the flame. He wanted it so badly. A device that would finally make him belong at Asgard, something that would key his soul to the place. Loki had always felt like the stranger, the changeling, the cuckoo. His cruel jokes were his way of letting them know that his strangeness was not to be ignored and brushed over. But if he got his hands on the flame that could unite him with his home, oh how he would belong. And their opinion of him wouldn't matter anymore, for better or worse. Solstice was a good night to travel. He had never been to that realm, but there was a taste on his tongue and a whirring sound buzzed on his skin when he took in his surroundings. Loki looked around. He couldn't see the flame at once, even though he had planned on teleporting right to it. Well, it couldn't be helped. He closed his eyes and felt for the earth lines.

  
  
  


The blue flame in the small cauldron didn't  _ look  _ like much, but the raw magic it radiated made Severus breath hitch. He put on his dragonhide gloves and picked it up. 

"Hey, mortal! That's mine. Be a dear and hand it over now", Loki said, slightly annoyed, raising an eyebrow at the wizard.


End file.
